Past Parents
by MatsuokaKiran
Summary: Madolyn and her son are moving years after the events of the movie. She tries to cope with the past, the impact it has had on her, and what that impact means for the both of them now. Post movie, angsty-fluff oneshot, Billy x Madolyn musings. Complete.


**Author's note at the end of the story. The premise, original story, characters, and ideas are not mine, but this story is. Enjoy ^_^**

* * *

Madolyn looked over at her son in the passenger's seat. He would be turning 12 soon. He was growing fast, his limbs were starting to lengthen and he would be entering junior high when summer ended.

She was filled with this nagging emptiness. She wanted to reach over and touch him, just to make sure he was still there. Nothing they had taught her in college had made her ready for this kind of love… and she had lost everyone she had ever loved before, so she supposed it was natural to be filled with doubt.

They were moving again, unfortunately. They had moved a couple times in the last decade. There was never any real reason, she just felt the need to move on, to be away from whatever attachments that had developed. Anymore, she didn't like the feeling of being tied down.

She braked slightly as the SUV and the trailer behind it entered the city limits of their new hometown.

"Wake up honey, we're here," she said reaching out and shaking her son's shoulder lightly.

"Mmmm... we are? I'm hungry," he stretched his legs and arms, looking around and blinking his eyes.

"You will have to help me unload things at first, but after a bit we will fix dinner okay?"

"Okay."

The house wasn't too big, but it was in a nice neighborhood, had a large yard, and the rent was cheap.

They unloaded for a few hours, and then as her son's complaining got more frequent she decided it was time to fix dinner anyway. She locked SUV and trailer, leaving what was left to unpack inside of them. As she started messing around with the stove, trying to get the gas burners to light, she sent her son to unpack the boxes of food.

"Hey Leo, will you get the food and put it away in the cabinets please?"

"Where're they at?" he yelled. Unnecessarily. Maybe it was because the house was still empty and had that 'bigger than it seems' feel to it.

"They should be labeled."

"Okay."

A few moments of rustling and thumping later and he was dragging several boxes into the kitchen.

"I think you labeled this one wrong Mom, it has a bunch of pictures in it."

"Well, close it back up and we will unpack it later."

"...Is this you mom? When you were a kid?" she turned to her son, he was holding up a black and white photograph of her riding a bike.

"Yeah, that's me. I've had that for a really long time, do you like it?" she turned back to the stove, flipping everything off now that she knew it was working properly.

"Yeah I do, I think maybe I look a little like you Mom. Do you want me to put it up?"

"Sure, your father would like that."

It wasn't calculated, it was said on impulse. The first thing that had come to mind. It was a subject she avoided, one she actively tried to forget, and if she thought about it too much her psychiatrist brain would give her no peace.

She waited in silence hoping her slip-up would go unnoticed. Just when she thought it had, she heard her son speak behind her.

"...He would? Did he like this picture too?" It was an inquisitive voice, but not a prying one. Leo had gotten used to her not wanting to talk about his father.

She tried to shut her brain down, a simple curt response and nothing would be said of it again. But it wasn't working.

Did he like the picture, did he not? Did he want to hang it up, or would he have wanted to hide it? She could have found out if she wanted to, she had had the chance, but would it have mattered?

"I‒ I don't know. And besides, it doesn't matter. Now have you ‒"

"We brought the tool box in, right? I am going to go put this up in the front room."

"Leo!" But he wasn't listening, he walked right out of the kitchen, not taking notice of his mother. Of how she gripped the counter top in the kitchen. Of how her shoulders were tensed, her eyes and mouth clamped shut as if trying to stop something.

It didn't matter. It didn't. Leo was her son, and she didn't give a damn about anything else. She didn't want to remember anything else, her ability to forget was the only reason that she had made it this far.

But her son had made her remember.

 _He picked up the picture. Looked at it, then her. He noticed the resemblance, he wanted to hang it up for everyone to see._

Finally she slid to the floor of the kitchen. And the tears started flowing. She wasn't sobbing, she had lost the energy for that years ago, she was just silently crying into her hands.

All those questions, about love, family, and who Leo's father was... it wasn't like she hadn't wondered or thought about it... but she was afraid of the truth. She had had her world ripped apart, and just when an impossible glimmer of hope had started to shine through, her world had been ripped apart again.

Her life in subsequent years had been in part shaped by those events, but she hadn't wanted her son to experience the same trauma. And as such she had never asked those questions.

But maybe it was time she put a stop to that. After studying for years in college, she had adopted an existentialist philosophy: your world was what you made of it, and everything was a matter of perspective.

She wiped the tears from her eyes, sniffed, and sat up away from the wall. As she looked up she noticed Leo peering fearfully around the doorway to the kitchen.

"M-mom? I'll take it down, I will, I promise I won't‒"

He stopped as she reached out a hand in his direction.

"Come here sweetie."

He shuffled towards her until he was standing in front of her, almost in tears himself.

"Sit down," she took his hands in hers as he sat down in front of her.

"I… I realize I have never really told you about your father, but I think it's time that changed."

She could do this.

"I was living in Boston when I met your father. Because of certain... things I had to stop seeing your father, and during then..."

She couldn't stop the tears, or the emotion in her own voice, but she was filled with a kind of happiness. Happiness that she knew what she wanted to say, what she felt, and who the boy's father really was.

"...your father died. But I loved your father, and he was a good person. Even though we were only together for a short time, I think we understood each other really well... and I am sure he would have loved you very much."

Her son was crying now too, his face distraught and flushed.

"H-he's dead? B-but ‒" She reached out and held her son to her, holding him tightly as he sobbed into her breast.

"I know. I know. I miss him too, but we have to be strong for daddy okay? He would want us to be happy, even if he's not here."

Leo pulled away, still crying as he looked up at her.

"What about‒ about the‒"

"It's okay, he did like that picture, and he would have loved having it hanging up in the living room."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I know the film isn't a romance film, but I think that the film had a lot to say about being human and hopefully this story had a little bit of that too. I wrote this up in the hours immediately following having watched _The Departed_. I thought the ending was wonderful, but also very sad and open ended, so I felt I needed to follow it up with something of my own. The film was filled with character foils, and I think it is important to note that Billy is the foil for Colin in Madolyn's personal life: Billy likes and displays Madolyn's photo (a photo she obviously had an attachment to), and Billy also listens to and respects her decisions. I wanted to write a story that artfully concluded Billy and Madolyn's relationship (I picture her successfully moving on after my fic), while also examining something of the themes within the movie as well (the most obvious being identity, and what it means to you, which is similar to some of the things I try to address in my story). Please rate and review! :)


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